A hot dog. That’s what you called your cock the first time you put me on my knees so I could suck you off while we were playing hide and seek in your mother’s basement. I didn’t know what was happening and I tried to fight but you hit me and held me by the hair, and I could hear my sister running around trying to find us in our hiding spot when you came in my mouth. There was no sympathy for my tears and you made it very clear you’d say I was a liar if I told. Every time I saw you thereafter, you found a way to get me alone. Once there was a friend with you and you laughed as you pushed me to my knees. “Look what I can get her to do.” You then offered for me to do the same for him but he declined. I think he may have been horrified but I was too scared to look up. I knew if I told your sister, my stepmother, you would indeed deny everything and then I’d be beaten for lying so I learned to kneel down, be still, swallow without gagging, hold back the tears because crying stuffed up my nose and then I couldn’t breathe at all and you didn’t care about that.
One night we were left in your charge, a pedophile teenager in the role of trustworthy “uncle and babysitter.” You put us to bed and waited just long enough for my sister to fall asleep, then I felt you sit on the edge of my bed by my pillow. I pretended to be asleep too, even when you shook me, because I knew what you wanted. As you stood up and stepped away I felt a deep sense of relief flood my body - I thought I had tricked you! - and then you went over to my sister’s bed. I knew what was going to happen to her but I was so terrified I could scarcely breathe and my bladder emptied in fear and my eyes squeezed shut. I listened to her muffled protests and gags and when you were done, she began to vomit and scream. Sadly there was no one to help her but me and I was too afraid to move. Eventually we both went to sleep - her in her puddle, me in mine - and the next morning I was punished for wetting the bed.
I was six years old that night, my sister was three, and I have never forgiven myself for what happened. I still carry the burden that she then became your repeated victim too, even though that was probably inevitable. I found out many years later that your sister knew and did nothing.
I think that might be the worst part of all.